


eden is not enough

by lucifer



Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifer/pseuds/lucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki said, “I suppose you’ll have to defend yourself instead,” and Thor threw up his arms just as his brother lashed out, quick and painful, with hands attached to wrists he knew were strong because the skin there was not pulled taught over soft muscle but instead over unyielding bone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eden is not enough

**Author's Note:**

> Resembles more East of Eden by John Steinbeck than Genesis. The one where Odin is the Worst Dad Ever™, apparently.

 

**I.**

They were just boys, not yet men. Odin pulled Thor away from the training grounds to speak with him shortly after dinner. The sun slowly slipped its way down to the horizon, and every inch of Asgard touched by its light illuminated in golden shades. It was so painfully bright that any shadows cast stood out like purple bruises. Thor saw Loki sitting alone in the violet shade of the hall’s great pillars. He had three open books cradled in his palms. His green eyes moved up and met Thor’s as they passed.

Something of the warm light seemed to reflect and spark in his irises as he held his brother’s gaze and returned his greeting smile. His eyes flickered between Thor and their father and the smile disappeared. When Thor waved at him discreetly behind Odin, they had walked ahead so that the angle of light made that spark turn into an orange flame in his brother’s bright eyes. Loki did not wave back.

 

 

**II.**

“Your tutor tells me you threatened to chop off his fingers.”

They were on the balcony and Thor suddenly found himself very interested in the cityscape below the castle. He could see the dusty market square beneath the golden arches that supported the sloping rainbow curve of road to the Bifröst, he could count the windows where lamps and candles were being lit, gold geometric shapes coming into existence on the sides of clean dark buildings.

“That tutor is a fool,” Thor grumbled. “Loki knows more than he does about anything.”

“Regardless of your opinion on him you must study properly. This world is vast, and a king has much he must learn.”

“Loki is more of a teacher than a man who repeats words from books! I could do better learning from him. The tutor simply stands there and points at pictures, diagrams… these are the stars, he says. They are also Yggdrasil. How is that Yggdrasil, I ask him. He points at the book again and says, this is how. It annoys me. I told him if he didn’t explain properly I’d cut off his fingers! No, Loki reads books and rewrites them in his head in new ways… he knows what he speaks of,” Thor said decisively, proud.

“I need you to not rely so much on your younger brother,” said Odin, a pained look pushing his brows together. “The ones you love may not always be there for you.”

Behind them in careful silence Loki skirted the edge of a pillar and hid himself its deep purple shadows. He could not hear words but only the murmur of their voices as Thor scoffed and Odin continued.

“Thor. You think highly of your brother for his mind, and for good reason… a man can be a king with a strong mind. I told you once that you were both born to be kings. But a strong mind will not always guarantee the support of the people. A king must be supported or he is weak in a different way, and often a fatal way... the Aesir need to know you can defend this realm with your own hands as they do as warriors. You cannot simply be brilliant at telling them what to do.”

Loki slunk closer, now within hearing range.  Thor wanted to scoff again, but sulking continued to listen.

“Your hands are strong. They were made to support this realm, to rule it, to mold it into greatness. Thor, you are much more than books and words. Your brother’s hands are for tomes and spells. Leave those things to him. The things you must know you must learn on your own.”

Defensive, Thor wanted to list all the ways his father was wrong, to tell him all the things Loki had taught him and their value. He wanted to shout until Odin understood. But he was not good with words like his brother. All of this built up inside him behind a wall. He longed for some tool to smash it with and found nothing. Not yet.

“Weaknesses of the mind would destroy a man with greater strength than others, but it is _your_ strength that will make you king.” Odin put a hand on his shoulder, a single unreassuring gesture that only made Thor angrier. He felt cold dead weight stop him from shrugging off his father’s words. There was a blemish of unfairness in the pristine seat of a throne his father wanted to give him. It was supposed to be as equally his as his brother’s, by chance of birth only his and his only.

Thor forced himself to shrug, jaw clenching until the ground of teeth brought him more pain than his thoughts. “And Loki will _never_ have that strength,” he concluded bitterly. It was a question.

Odin paused as though reconsidering the palm he had placed on that shoulder. “He will not,” he said.

Thor’s mouth twisted into a frown.

But from behind them Loki had seen only his brother’s back and had heard only his contempt. He turned away, hands shaking. He stared into the dark gaping maw that was the great hall, not yet lit into golden glory for the evening. It was dark and he could no longer see the high seated throne at the far end of the room. Pain and anger was twisting its way into his gut, but he held it there, smothered it. One foot, then another, he walked away—followed the concealing tooth-like shade of pillars until the shadows of the throne room swallowed him.

 

 

**III.**

Thor had asked him to join him for a walk. "What was it father pulled you aside to speak of?" Loki inquired as they set off beyond the great city walls. The sun had set entirely now, the horizon a glowing line of pink and purple, like the sweltering knife-cut of a wound. Above them the heavens suspended thousands of ignited stars, and behind them the castle transformed into blue spires in the darkness, like great hulking cliffs of ice spattered by the orange light from windows. Thor looked at them, then his brother.

"Nothing," he said lightly. "Just more talk of the great responsibility of kings."

"What sort of responsibilities?" Loki pressed.

Thor shrugged, kicked up dirt in the path along the moon blue grasses.

"He told me I must consider my tutoring more. I laughed and said, 'Loki is more a teacher than a man who simply repeats words from books'. He didn’t agree.”

Loki felt that little dread in his stomach spread like a blossom of ice. Thor continued, still struggling to wrap his head around whatever wisdom Odin was trying to impart.

“Do you remember when we lay out in these fields and I searched for the branches of Yggdrasil? You taught me to connect each star with the point of my finger, and no matter the order or which stars I chose, the branches were like that. An infinite invisible web. This is much different than a teacher simply saying ‘they are connected’. Your explanations are better. This I can understand.

“But father said I should teach myself to understand rather than rely on you. It didn't make much sense to me. How is learning from you worse than learning from the stupid tutor?"

Loki shrugged stiffly. "Perhaps he expects me to lie and mislead you."

"But you haven't," Thor said, confident. "Anyway, he told me as king I cannot expect to rely on others for advice all of the time. ‘Weaknesses of the mind would destroy a king with greater strength than others,’ he said. But I'm certain it should not matter when my brother is the cleverest in all of Asgard and beyond."

“You should listen to him. Father’s always right, after all. You shouldn’t rely on me.” Loki’s chin tipped down. Thor looked alarmed.

“Why not? I trust you.”

“And why do you have such faith in me?” Loki demanded.

Thor looked pleased at the prospect of a question he knew the answer to easily. “Well, you are my brother,” he said simply.

“Then you are willingly a fool,” Loki snapped. “What makes you think I would not use your trust to usurp the throne our father so steadfastly gifts you?” Thor shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking at his brother, bewildered.

“Steadfastly gifts…? Neither you nor I control the order of our births, brother,” he said. But there was an edge of guilt to those words that slid through his voice, just as the stinging salt edge of the wind from the sea blew through them now in the cold night-time. Loki wanted to rip that guilt and its cause out of him. He crushed pale grasses of the fields beneath his feet.

“Do you remember father’s birthday?” he asked, steady, but eyes wild. "I spent the week beforehand enchanting a goblet I bought off Heimdall for more than it was worth. It was solid gold. I took one of Idunn's immortal apples and spent three days extracting the damn essence of them. I didn't sleep at all! I changed that stupid goblet so that any drink poured into it would be as invigorating as those ageless fruits.”

“I don’t see how this—“ Thor began, irritated, but Loki stopped him with a rising voice.

“And what did you do, brother? You went out into the forest with your hammer the night before his feast and slew a she-wolf. You gave him the two pups you brought back and laughed, saying they would growl at Jötun. He _loves_ them. They sit beside him on the throne. He feeds them only with his own hands. And what of my goblet? He never used it _once_. In all the months since that gift was given I haven't seen it. Mother doesn't drink from it. Heimdall can see the tiniest of movements on worlds a thousand stars away, and he won't tell me where it's ended up.”

“Are you accusing me?” Thor’s voice rose, angry. “Do you think I would steal your gift to put myself into favour? How dare you even _begin_ to believe such a thing of me—”

“—I’m not!” Loki felt the ice in his stomach crack and give way to bitter rage. “No, that’s not it. Listen to you, so blinded by your own pride,” he spat out, shaking. “Don’t you see how unfair this is? Father always chooses _you_."

Thor, stunned, tried to scoff, but could not bring himself to put the effort behind it. “Don’t be ridiculous. We have separate strengths, brother, but surely we’re nothing less than equal because of them. Your mind devours whole libraries and I will always be stronger—the better warrior.”

Loki froze. Thor continued, somewhat shaky. “Come on, it’s getting cold. Mother will be missing us.” He stepped forward, hand outstretched in a gesture of peace. But Loki’s eyes narrowed and he stepped away.

“Better warrior? Shall we test that? Come, brother. If this is what our father values more, show me the abilities that make you superior,” he challenged icily, shoulders squaring and thin fingers curling into fists. Thor opened his mouth to speak, wide eyed, then deliberately shook his head, arms limp at his sides.

“I won't fight you, Loki,” he said.  

For a long moment Thor looked at his brother’s wrists, thin like bird bones, but truly only fragile in theory… and then when Loki spoke the whispering wind silenced and the sound of the sea all disappeared as though the water had rushed away from the shore, never returning. All Thor could hear was the ice in his voice as he said, “That’s a pity.” Those eyes were hard and set. He was poised to strike. Loki said, “I suppose you’ll have to defend yourself instead,” and Thor threw up his arms just as his brother lashed out, quick and painful, with hands attached to wrists he knew were strong because the skin there was not pulled taught over soft muscle but instead over unyielding bone.

There were a series of strong, sharp blows, and Thor tried to reach out and grasp his brother, to hold him until he stopped, but Loki sprung away only to reappear at his back like a shadow—so quickly magic had to be involved. The sound of the ocean came back to him like a roar that escalated. Thor whipped around and for an instant glimpsed his brother’s coldly empty face an instant before Loki punched him in the mouth.

Thor staggered away from him with his hands cupping his bleeding lip. A moment of stillness passed where the two could only hear themselves panting, the rushing of blood in their ears, the roar of the ocean. Just as Loki was about to begin again, his fists raised high, Thor lunged fast and caught him around the shoulders. His brother’s forehead slammed against his sternum. He thrashed violently and snarled, “Let me go.” Thor shook his head, stronger arms locked tight. Blood dripped off his chin into Loki’s dark hair and in the night it looked black and the same as their sweat.

Thor closed his eyes and pretended he was holding his brother after a nightmare because he himself had never been plagued by them, and the thought that this moment might be one did not comfort him like the thought that he was saving his brother from himself did.

Loki stilled after some time. He was reduced to gasping out the adrenaline like poison against Thor’s shirt. Then he pulled back enough to look Thor in the eyes and slammed a faintly glowing palm against his brother’s chest. There was a sickening snap as whatever magical force in his enchanted hand broke Thor’s ribcage. Thor jerked away, letting out a bellow of pain that was cut short to a gasp when the act hurt him even more. Then he was on the ground, vision flooded with the stars and light of the universe blending together in his watering eyes. He thought he could see Yggdrasil clearly now. When he closed his eyes it was burned into the back of his eyelids, a thousand glowing pin pricks arranged in the shape of a leafless branch, and when he opened them again the colours inverted and doubled like shadows of themselves. Somehow his mind thought of the word _brothers_ but the galaxy’s familiar glow was eclipsed by Loki stepping into his range of sight.

He gingerly tried to push himself up onto an elbow, struggling with short shallow gasps. Loki stared down at Thor with noncommittal eyes. There was no flame in them now. He was cold, calculating; seeking an exactness like a formula from one of his books. Through hazy pain Thor looked at his brother and saw an executioner pausing before deciding on a method of taking a life.

"Loki," he choked out, though it felt as if his throat were closing up. The metallic taste of blood was still on his tongue. "Brother." He lifted a hand. It was shaking of its own accord. He reached out and grasped his brother's ankle. Loki flinched as if he had been burned but did not pull away.

"Brother," Thor said again and this time met Loki's eyes that were truly green but now blacker and bluer than a bruise in the night, sliced by the thin line of stars reflected there. It looked as though they had cut right through him. "Brother,” Thor said again and squeezed his ankle hard. “Stop."

Loki's brows pushed together and up just as the corners of his mouth turned into a frown. He looked Thor up and down slowly, eyes growing wider and wider as the murderous exterior melted away. The wrinkles in his forehead were sharp and defined. He glanced at the blood on Thor's face and then at the blood on his own knuckles. His breath went out in a sharp exhale.

"Oh," he said, and fell to his knees beside Thor. "No—I can fix this. I can—" His hand went out, hovering over the broken bones of Thor's ribcage—two. Then he stopped, looked bewildered at that hand, and whispered, short and broken, “What have I done?” He shook himself. His words spilled out faster than his blows had come before. “Thor. There’s a spell. Back at the castle, in my books—I _know_ it’s there, I can _fix_ this—I can—“ Loki looked at him wide-eyed and afraid, and in the tiniest voice, hissed, “We can’t tell father _. Don’t_ tell father—“

Thor had never before been less aware of his own pain. It blinded him, made him reach out wildly. He clasped his hand around Loki's neck and pulled him close. Then he took a shuddering breath and whispered raggedly, "I won’t. Let's go home."

 

**IV.**

Loki had to cast three different concealment charms on them before they finally made it all the way back to the palace. He helped Thor into his own room, refusing to let go of him or leave him alone. Thor collapsed into his brother’s bed in a heap. He breathed gingerly for the pain it caused him while Loki tore apart his bookshelves looking for the right volume he needed. When he finally pulled it from a stack of other giant books the room was entirely in disarray.

“It’s fine,” Thor grumbled as Loki nearly threw himself and the book to the bedside. “It truly only hurt at first and when I, ah—“

“Breathe?” Loki finished, raising an eyebrow at him. Then he flipped open the book and stared at it intensely. “For the love of all the gods in all the realms. Shut up.” Thor heard his brother’s voice still shaky, without its usual edge of mockery, and exhaled carefully. Loki helped him pull his shirt off, hands hovering over the unbroken skin with the two cracked ribs beneath.

Loki inhaled deeply, closed his eyes. He held his hands out steady like an offering and mouthed words Thor didn’t understand.

Then it was pointless. Odin threw the bedroom doors open, strode into the room, and boomed, “Where have you been?”  

Loki froze from where he was hovering above Thor with glowing palms outstretched. Thor pushed himself up immediately without thinking, then cried out in pain and fell back again. Odin’s single eye looked straight at him.

“What happened?” he demanded, striding towards them. Loki backed away, eyes narrowing like a threatened animal, but Thor grabbed him by the wrist. Odin stopped at the opposite side of the bed, surveyed the two odd twisted ribs Thor tried to cover with one hand over his heart, and set his eye on Loki. It was an accusation, no different than pointing a finger, and Loki grimaced.

“What have you _done_?” Odin’s voice was distorted with anger. Loki tried to twist his hand out of Thor’s grip.    

“Father,” Thor gasped, “It was an accident, we were just sparring—“

“Call the healers!” Odin shouted at the doorway. The hall echoed with clanking armoured footsteps, more Aesir shouting, and Loki broke free. The movement made Odin set the intensity of his gaze on him again immediately. “It looks as though that could have been a killing blow,” he said, deep voice suddenly quieter.

The corners of Loki’s mouth turned down. “I suppose next time I’ll have to put more power behind it,” he replied cruelly. Thor looked at his brother in disbelief, searching for some emotion that would explain… but the green eyes were hardened like diamonds. He stood there shaking with something that Thor wasn’t sure of. His brother’s pulse fluttered in his neck and he looked cornered and afraid. Thor realized he still had one arm reaching out towards him.

The healers came and crowded around. He tried to sit up, pushing them away, wanting Loki to look at him, to show some emotion that would give him reason to be defended. The healers held him gently by the wrists and murmured comforting words. Thor shoved them aside more violently.

Odin looked pained. The lines that wedged their way between his brows seemed permanent. He raised a hand and pointed to the door. “Get out,” he said to Loki, and Loki looked at him level, face a blank mask, wiped clean of anything readable. He didn’t turn away once, just walked to the other side of the room and snatched his green cloak with shaking fingers from the edge of a chair. Odin said nothing. With one arm Thor threw one of the healers to the floor.

“Loki!” he bellowed, trying to get to his feet, the stabbing pain in his chest just another goad. Loki said nothing and looked nowhere near him. He wrapped the heavy emerald cloak around himself like a shield. The shaking hands and their bony wrists were hidden now. Then he approached the bedside. One foot, right after another. The healers moved away from him as though recoiling from something putrid.

“Loki,” said Odin, a warning, stepping forward.

Loki sent him a vicious look. “I was _helping_ him before you arrived,” he hissed. Then he quieted, bent down and pressed his cold clammy face to Thor’s cheek. Thor felt eyelashes touch his temple as Loki closed his eyes.

“Brother,” Thor said, voice cracking.

Loki replied with nothing at first, just inhaled deeply. Then on the unsteady exhale of breath, whispered: “He always chose _you_.”

Thor made a noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, reaching out, but Loki flinched and stepped away. The healers closed in and grasped that arm, gently trying to coax him down. Loki was staring baleful at Odin again.

“Leave us,” Odin spoke firmly with finality.

From his golden room to the dark of the corridor Loki strode out and was gone.

“Loki!” Thor shouted, voice echoing back into the room from the hallway. His brother’s footsteps began to fade. He whirled on his father. There was a rushing in his ears again but it was not the sound of the sea that had flooded him earlier. It was more like the sound of Loki’s deep green cloak brushing the dark polished floor as he walked away from Thor and the life he had there.

“Why did you do that? Why would you say that?!” he was snarling at Odin, ripping his arms away from the hands of healers, kicking the dark sheets off of Loki’s bed. They caught him around his upper arms, held him to the blankets, kind hands trying to mend his chest with soothing magic. But it didn’t matter.

Odin walked to one side of the bed, silent. Thor struggled all over again, looked imploring at his father. “Why do you think he did it?” he shouted, blinded by the wetness in his eyes. He blinked furiously until those old shadows appeared again, the infinitesimal stars of Yggdrasil.

“This is why,” he gasped. “This is why he doesn’t think you love him.” His face was damp. He lay in a bed that was not his and in a room that had never suited him less. His eyes looked upon it as the living look upon possessions of the deceased that surround them after finding themselves searching hopelessly for their owner.

But Odin said nothing.

His lower arms free but useless, Thor went limp, smacked a fist down into the harmless cushion of the bed. He did it rhythmically, over and over. “Damn you,” he snarled, voice cracking. “Damn you. _Damn you_.” The sounds of his punches were like punctuation.

Odin walked away. The healers numbed the pain out of him until he could no longer feel his own heartbeat. Instead Thor felt only the dull ache of something else broken and leaving him. _Thump, thump_ , went his hand on the mattress. It was like the pump of blood his veins no longer felt. It was like Loki’s footsteps taking him somewhere he could no longer hear.

If only his heart were ice. 

**Author's Note:**

> _And the Lord had respect unto Abel and to his offering:  
>  but unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell.  
> And the Lord said unto Cain, "Why art thou wroth? and why is thy countenance fallen?  
> If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door: and unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him."  
> And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.  
> And the Lord said unto Cain, "Where is Abel thy brother?" And he said, "I know not: Am I my brother's keeper?"_


End file.
